Ghosts and Outlines
by PepsiCola541
Summary: Rachel came first. But with Rachel came Annabeth, leaving Percy confused; he'd been searching for so long for inspiration, and it came not from Rachel, like he'd thought it would, but from her best friend. (one-shot, au.)


_Most of the time I have no idea what to write about, or what I am writing, or if there is something greater than me that I am writing to. All I know is that my fingers take advantage of a keyboard or a pencil, and suddenly I am transported into a world of my own creation, of my own doing, and then I turn around and she is there. She is always there, and I do not know who she is or where she's come from, but then I fall into her and we are jointed at the spine of the chapters of our memories. She is always something different, something caustic but amazing, like sarcastic laughter ringing in my ears. And I love her for it. I will love her no matter who she transforms into, no matter how many times she is generated by my imagination. She may change, she may morph into something different, but she is a part of me, and I will always recognize her. _

::::

Percy slammed his journal, glancing at the clock on his bedside table. It was three in the morning. He realized with a groan that he'd been writing for a grand total of four hours and seventeen minutes, and that his journal was in need of intensive care, with pages torn from it in carelessness. His floor was littered with crumpled up pages of something or other that resembled something of a cliché novel- or, at least, that was what he told himself, for he truly believed his writing was not worth the pain it caused him, and his pen marks that tallied the severed pieces of his journal would never count for anything.

His mother had always told him to follow his dreams, as any loving, caring mother would (and his mother definitely filled that category), but he sometimes wondered if she was simply giving up her own dreams for him, like she always had. She was so selfless, and he never ceased to feel selfish around her.

He wanted to be like his step-father. Paul was an amazing writer, poet, and teacher, and he had taught Percy himself when Percy was in high school. He had written many books about sensual things, and he was quite famous in Brooklyn. Percy loved Paul, and treated him like his own father.

But there was something Paul had told him a week ago, and it was still bothering Percy. That was the reason he was still awake at 3:41 in the morning, rubbing his temple and sighing.

"You need experience to be able to write to your fullest," Paul had said. "Get out of the house for a while, just look around. You'd be surprised with what you could find."

Yes, because Percy didn't go out often. He did. He was a sophomore in college, for goodness' sake, and he was in classes with many, many attractive girls. It wasn't like he was oblivious to them (he was). He was sure none of them were interested in him, anyway (they were).

He lived alone in his own apartment, and it was the summer, and he finally decided that maybe he should come to terms with the fact that yes, he was a bit lonely.

It hadn't bothered him before, but lately all he'd been able to write about was a nameless girl. She had no color of hair, no particular characteristics, just a two-dimensional figure in his mind. And he considered himself crazy for thinking in this way (maybe it was the leftover wine his best friend, Grover, had accidentally left behind in Percy's fridge three months ago that Percy had stupidly drank that afternoon that was talking, but he could only think that she was there, and he was just not seeing her. That this was yet another world he'd been written into, and she was there, but he hadn't met her yet.)

So, yes, maybe it was a bad idea to grab his journal, his coat (which was unnecessary because of the temperate climate, but he was never one for technicalities, anyway), and his wallet and walk out of his house at 3:49 in the morning, but that was what the City That Never Sleeps was for, wasn't it?

::::

"I'll take a martini, please."

She didn't want the drink, but she decided this was the best way to cope. After all her years of telling herself she'd never sink this low, drowning herself in alcohol seemed the best candidate for forgetting.

"What's the name of the tab, ma'am?" the bartender asked her, his brown eyes expectant. He was cute, she realized, but then pushed the thought away. _Nope_, she fought. _I am going to be sad and I am not going to flirt with any boy ever again_ (she would, if that's any surprise). After telling herself this (and pretending to believe it), she forced her mouth to form a straight line.

"Put it on Chase's," she said. She knew for a fact that Malcolm, her brother, came here quite often with his frat friends. It wasn't hard for him to fit in at NYU, but it was a little too large for her taste. And a little too hard to be away from California, her real home, with Thalia and... Luke.

And there he was, flashing in her mind with his smile and laugh and bronze skin and blue eyes. And it hurt.

_Push it away_. She would not confront the thought of him, and she hoped she wouldn't ever do so. She told herself she was content sitting here, drowning herself with drinks.

"Here's your martini, ma'am," the bartender said with a wink. She noticed he'd slid a napkin over, and there were numbers on it, most likely a phone number, most likely his. Without looking at him or the phone number, she ripped the napkin in two, downed her martini, and left the bar in one fell swoop.

_There goes my chance of forgetting_, she thought grumpily as she walked out of the doors, tightening her coat in the cold winter air. She looked at her feet as she walked, wondering if all this was real, wondering if she was just sleepwalking on the beach and this was really sand beneath her feet rather than cold, hard cobblestone sidewalks. She so wished it was a dream, and she'd wake up next to him, and all would be okay.

But it wasn't, and she wouldn't, and it wouldn't be. She was stuck here for at least four semesters (one of which was, thankfully, almost over) because her father's new wife worked at NYU and her father had insisted she be polite to Susan (she refused to call her her mother). But she didn't even know Susan. She was just some bimbo, someone she had not ever wanted to meet or run into on a daily basis. She'd eschewed _meeting her_ meeting her- that is, talking to her with less than three words at a time- and if she had her way, she never would.

She concentrated on her footsteps, relishing in the way her mind fogged. It occurred to her that she must have a really, _really_ low tolerance for alcohol if she was tipsy from one martini, but she didn't mind. At least it had worked at all.

And then she was suddenly falling down, but she was falling into someone, and they caught her right before she fell. She pushed them off, muttering that she was okay, and straightened her skirt.

It was a girl approximately her age, with rage red hair and paint all over her clothes, even her winter coat. The girl wore a huge grin that almost blinded her, even in her hazy state.

"Oh, hey! Looks like you coulda had a terrible spill, there! You look like you could use some help. Hi! I'm Rachel." She waved unecessarily. "It's nice to meet you."

"Excuse me, but I doubt it smart of you to simply introduce yourself to a random stranger you bump into on the street," she grumbled.

Rachel's grin didn't waver in the slightest, which infuriated Annabeth. "I believe in helping people who need help is all," Rachel explained, taking her arm. Annabeth yanked out of her grasp with a disgusted expression, but Rachel maintained her sunny demeanor.

"So? What's your name?" Rachel asked, falling into step with her.

"Annabeth," she said unwittingly. She cursed herself for giving her real name; although Rachel didn't resemble a killer of sorts, it would have been a smarter decision to give a fake name. Annabeth, however, wasn't really in a good mindset for safe at the moment.

"I'll get you a taxi," Rachel said. Before Annabeth could protest, she was whistling into the New York night.

_Weren't New Yorkers supposed to be rude and snippy?_ Annabeth wondered. If so, maybe she was fitting in quite well after all.

::::

He'd left his keys inside his apartment, which he was now regretting dearly. He hadn't even locked the door behind him. Who knew if there were thieves in his apartment? _Dumb, dumb, dumb,_ he chastised inwardly, pounding his forehead with his palm.

He'd slid inside a diner booth before he'd realized this, and before he could leave, a waitress appeared. Her pale skin was dotted with freckles, and it looked like she had a sunburn on her shoulders- it contrasted with her red hair, but somehow made her look prettier.

She must have seen him eyeing her red skin, and she laughed. "Yeah, I spent the weekend down at Cape Cod," she said. "Even when I no longer live with my parents, they still think they can force me to go on vacation with them."

He smiled at her. "Looks like they can."

She laughed again, not a graceful sound, but one that made his eyes crinkle. "I love it there, but I refuse to enjoy a good time when I'm in the company of my parents." She was obviously very open, something Percy usually didn't mind, but he really did need to get back to his unlocked apartment.

"So, what can I get you?" She asked, tentatively waiting for his reply.

"I'm so sorry, but I need to get back to my apartment... I left it unlocked, you see."

She laughed again. "Well, you better get back to the diner in..." She looked down at a watch on her wrist, "...thirty minutes, tops."

"Why?"

"Because you're the nicest customer I've had all day, and my shift ends in thirty minutes."

He smiled at her again. He wondered if he'd ever smiled this much, and if it made him look like an idiot. If he did, though, she didn't seem to mind.

"I'll make it a top priority," he said, getting up.

"Well, if you don't make it back- seeing as it is pretty late- call me." Percy's eyes widened by her boldness, but she didn't seem one to withhold anything at all, anyways, so he wasn't terribly surprised. She reached in her pocket and handed him a dining ticket with her name and number written across it. _Rachel Dare_.

"Do you just hand these out to anyone?" He asked her, puzzled as to why she'd had it readily available.

She smiled covertly. "Not just anyone. I look for listeners, you see."

Then Percy departed, thinking for a beat that maybe he'd finally found his evasive inspiration, his 2-D lover, at last.

::::

Sitting in a taxi with a stranger wasn't as awkward as Annabeth had thought it might be. Especially not with Rachel Dare.

She was so open with everything; from telling the driver to _oh my God, turn up the heat, it's so cold outside_ to _my parents and I have a really bad relationship_ to _you can stay at my apartment if you need to, do you want to go there instead of your apartment? _

And despite her old mindset of hating Rachel's sunny demeanor, Annabeth actually liked that she had a friend now. She'd never tell Rachel, of course. Who knew what she'd do if she heard that- maybe have a coronary out of happiness or worse, want to make friendship bracelets.

"-and I just really don't know what to do for our anniversary, since it's during my parents' ball gown party, and I don't think he'd like dancing. He's more the stay-at-home and write kind of person, if you ask me," Annabeth caught the tail-end fragment of Rachel's sentence, wondering _does she ever stop talking_?

Plus, everything was kind of going in slow motion due to the alcohol, although it wasn't potent enough to drown out Rachel's incessant chatter.

The driver halted at the curb (looking quite relieved), and Annabeth suddenly realized that the apartment outside wasn't her own. It was a huge, grand penthouse apartment, which caught Annabeth by surprise; for some reason, she'd thought Rachel would be living in some beaten-down hostel with homeless people, keeping them 'company'.

"Rachel-" Annabeth started, but Rachel shook her head.

"You're gonna stay here, okay? Plus, you never did give the driver your address, and you must'a had a lot of drinks because you've been kinda... drifting during the whole ride." She grinned. "Come up! I've got a super sweet tooth, so there isn't a shortage of candy!" (as if that was the only thing that would keep Annabeth from coming inside.)

Before Rachel dragged her out of the cab, she shared a look with the driver in the rearview mirror and payed him, hoping against hope she could just fall asleep without a hassle.

::::

He did end up calling her, but a month later. On a whim.

"Hello?"

"Yes, hi, this is Percy Jackson. I met you at a diner about a month ago- you were waitressing-"

"Ah, yes, the kid who didn't show up." She seemed sarcastic, but amused, so he guessed she wasn't altogether mad.

"I'm so sorry. Literally, when I got home, I passed out."

"Yes, well, I'm sure a month-long duration of unconsciousness did wonders for your skin."

"As I recall," he said, "you were the one who needed some skin rejuvenation."

"Oh ho ho," she said, mockingly offended. "I'll have you know, sir, that I am very tan. Give me red hair and call me Emma Stone in the summertime."

"First of all, Emma Stone has _blonde_ hair now, and you _do_ have red hair, and is Emma stone really ta-"

"The point being," she interrupted with a bemused tone, "are you going to meet me at the diner or not?"

"Hmm..." Percy pretended to consider. "I guess I do owe you a month's worth of repentance."

"Don't forget to pick up no less than fifteen dozen roses and one of those extreme Hershey bars the size of my whole body before you arrive," she said, laughing gently before hanging up.

How in the world had he forgotten about this girl?

He didn't buy roses or chocolate before he left, but he did bring his journal, which he'd never shown to anyone before. And he wasn't completely sure why.

::::

"Rise and shine, sleepy head!"

Be it the long chat Rachel had pressed into Annabeth's brain the night before or her surprisingly low tolerance for alcohol, she had a headache that felt like ten knives were sticking out of her forehead. In her dazed, sleepy state, Annabeth reached to pull one out of her brain and lodge it into Rachel's so she would just shut up.

But there were no knives available, and Rachel was waving bacon in front of her face, so she rose from bed begrudgingly.

Rachel's penthouse apartment was two stories and very expansive, with many, many rooms, one of which Annabeth had slept soundly in. The bed was so, so comfortable, and she fought the urge to fall back into it.

Instead, she got up and followed Rachel to the kitchen, where many good smells were emanating from.

"Do you have any Tylenol?" Annabeth grumbled, rubbing her face and tangled hair.

"I do indeed," Rachel said, strangely quiet and lacking the huge amount of sunshine she'd displayed the night before. Was it for Annabeth's benefit or for some other reason?

"Are you okay?" Annabeth asked her as Rachel handed her the bottle of Tylenol. It wasn't like she cared that much, but still.

"Yeah, I'm good, just thinking. I think a lot in the morning."

"Ah," Annabeth hummed, grabbing a piece of bacon and chewing it. "Wow, Rachel, you can cook really well."

She laughed. "It's not of my creation. Simon made it."

"Simon?" Annabeth raised her eyebrows, mid-chew. "Your boyfriend?"

"No, no, he's my butler. My parents insisted they buy my housing and make sure I was 'living properly', but my father refused buy my college tuition. So I work at a diner."

"But... Working at a diner isn't going to get you a lot of money. Certainly not enough for college." She poured some orange juice into a cup and downed a pill with it.

"No, I know that. But I want to be independent, do things the way I'm comfortable. I want to have that one day of glory when I stand outside this apartment, luggage in hand, and be apart from my parents, no strings attached. I want to sell my artwork. Travel the globe. That's why my father won't buy my college tuition- he doesn't approve of what I want to do. But that's okay. Student loans are so much better than taking money from him." She looked so solemn, a strange appearance for Rachel Dare, the sunshine queen.

Unknowing of what to say, Annabeth said, "have a bacon slice." Annabeth stuck it in Rachel's face, causing her to laugh.

"I have clothes in my closet if you want to borrow them," she said. "Upstairs, third door on the left."

As Annabeth walked away from Rachel, she found herself rethinking what she'd first thought, that Rachel wasn't worth being friends with.

::::

When Percy arrived at the diner, Rachel looked so happy.

"I'm so glad you came. Wasn't sure you would." She was full of laughter, and it just exuded from her skin. She slid into the booth and patted the seat next to her.

"Of course I was coming. I wasn't gonna miss my second chance."

"Such a cliche', Percy Jackson. I'd dubbed you as more of a casual lover more than a die-hard romantic."

"You dubbed me wrong," he said, laughing. "I write. Romance stuff, that is." He pulled out his journal, placing it in her hands. She considered it.

"I've never shown it to anyone," he whispered, and then she looked at him. She placed it on the table, patted it as if to console it, telling it she would come back to it soon, but there was something more important at hand.

"I'd love it if you'd kiss me, Percy Jackson."

She never ceased to be forward, did she? Percy was not surprised, but at the same time, he was. But he leaned forward with little hesitation, and suddenly he'd found inspiration, and it was melting into him. Her hand fell into the dip in the middle of his chest, and his found its way into her hair. They sat in the booth, just kissing, for the longest time, and he was so glad no one else was there. It was around five in the morning- only fools would be there, after all (and maybe he'd considered himself a fool before, but he didn't now.)

She was such an open book, and he'd been closed for so long that he didn't know how it felt to pour himself out.

::::

When the guy walked into the living room of Rachel's penthouse, Annabeth was standing there, mid-sentence, with no pants on. In fact, she'd just been asking where Rachel's pants were.

He walked in, looked her from head to toe, and gaped for a second before Rachel walked in.

"-pretty sure Simon took them to wash, since he's always trying to get paint out of them, to no avail, but he never stops tryi- oh, hey, Percy!" she took one look at the scene of the two of them, and laughed.

Approaching Percy, Rachel hugged him in a way that shouted_ in a relationship_, so Annabeth pushed away her inner Cute alarm (her body was such a traitor- she was supposed to be swearing off boys, anyhow).

"Annabeth, this is Percy Jackson." He stepped forward and shook her hand, which she took rather awkwardly (she didn't have pants on, after all).

"Nice to, uh, meet you." She ignored the way he was reminiscent of Luke (although, it could have just been he was just a guy and she hadn't come in contact with one since Luke, not counting the bartender from last night.)

Annabeth felt out of place with the two of them, so she excused herself to go upstairs.

Once she entered Rachel's room, she suddenly broke down, for utterly no reason except for her weakness (that's what she decided was the cause). She missed Luke, and she'd held it in for so long, and she didn't know how to push it out of her system. For some reason, Percy had awakened this feeling inside her, and it came alive with a great force that buckled her knees and poured out of her eyes like a flood.

And then, he was there. In the doorway. The room was dark, so it was but a silhouette, but she had a flashback of Luke, their first time, the grief she'd felt after it. She hated love. She hated it. It was nothing but pain.

But he was there- Percy, not Luke- Percy, Rachel's boyfriend, who had seen her bare legs and long, paint-stained tee that ran halfway past her thighs. And she felt so utterly exposed, and she hated it. She hated him already, him and Rachel, because they were so kind, so caring. And she felt she did not deserve it.

And he sat beside her on Rachel's bed, simply staring at her, putting an arm around her shoulders and rubbing her back. He did not ask what was wrong, or what had happened, or explain why he was doing this. After all, she was a complete stranger.

::::

_For the first time, I knew it was her. Oh, I had so hoped it to be differently, but I knew her the first time I saw her. And I hated myself, because she was not the one I was supposed to love._

::::

When Rachel walked into her room, seeing the scene, she paused for a moment, as if to wonder, _what's going on...? _before deciding to enter. She sat on the other side of Annabeth, rubbing her back so that Percy's hand met hers.

Rachel suddenly hugged Annabeth like she was a lifeline, and Percy suddenly felt like he needed to protect her, although she wasn't his to protect.

And then she was gone. Annabeth said her goodbyes once Simon came with the rest of Rachel's clothes, pulling up a pair of paint-colored jeans and leaving the room, wiping away tears.

Percy watched her leave, and then was brought out of his stupor by Rachel, who kissed him on the cheek.

::::

_The summer before was Rachel's; the winter that followed was Annabeth's. And I so wished all the years could be Rachel's back then, but I found myself staring at the ceiling, trying to write anything but Annabeth, but she was what persistently appeared in my mind._

::::

Rachel moved out of her penthouse. She made her home Percy's, and with Rachel's home came her friends, and with her friends came her best friend, which happened to be Annabeth.

In other words, Rachel moved into Percy's apartment. And the three of them grew closer.

::::

_She does not see me as anything more than a friend, as a friend to Rachel should. And I should not have placed her like I did, but she crawled into my chest like it was made for her, and she did not even realize it, but I think Rachel did, early on._

::::

In a matter of six months, she'd moved out.

::::

_But she was so broken, and I was always wishing to fix things. Rachel- she could fix things better than I, especially herself. Maybe I had suddenly just had the inclination to go to the bathroom just to hear her sobs that one day when I found her in Rachel's room, to realize what I'd felt was true. She needed me. Rachel did not. And maybe she never did._

::::

He mourned Rachel for a long time, and Annabeth, having been good friends with both of them, had no clue what to do. She was caught in the middle, always.

::::

_I wish she had seen me earlier on._

::::

Annabeth had seen him cuddling a pillow on his couch once she'd used her key to unlock the door to his apartment.

"Stop this, Perce. It has been a year and a half, and I won't be your messenger any longer." She looked so angry, but so concerned. "This is the last time I carry her messages and vice versa." With a huff, she handed him a book.

It was his journal.

She sat next to him, her cheeks flushed from cold or heat or anger. She looked up at him, waiting for him to open it, but he did not.

She placed her hand in his, unknowing of how it affected him.

"Perce, I love you, and that's why I need to tell you that you and Rachel are meant for each other. I know the both of you. I know you miss her. And I miss late night movies and arcade games and beating both of you at putt putt golf."

He smiled, albeit a little sadly.

"Please, talk to her. Make things right." With that, she left.

He opened his journal.

On the last page, something was written in Rachel's scrawl.

_Go get her._

::::

_Maybe all I needed was Rachel's assent, but perhaps I had been ready to love Annabeth for a long time.. Maybe I already did._

::::

He ran to her. She was sitting in a bookstore, reading something.

"Percy, did you talk to Rachel? Because she called me and told me she was moving to Massachusetts."

Percy did not love Rachel, but he cared about her, so he felt a blow in his chest all the same. It must have showed on his face, because Annabeth consoled him. "I'll talk to her, try to get her to stay."

But this was glaringly obvious- Annabeth thought he was in love with Rachel, and Rachel was telling him she couldn't be around them together.

"Annabeth, get in my car."

::::

_It had been a long drive already, but I still didn't know what to say._

::::

He wrung his hands before telling her everything. His love, his loss. And she stormed out.

::::

_That was the last I saw of Annabeth Chase- until three days later._

::::

Then she reappeared on his doorstep, and she grabbed hold of his shoulders so fast he thought he may spin. She pressed her lips to his, and he had never felt so desperate for her like this.

::::

_Love comes in strange ways. It comes in pain and out of heartbreak, but somehow settles deep inside us and blooms into something wonderful. _

::::

When he finally published his book, Rachel came to congratulate him. And they laughed like nothing had changed, all three of them.

::::


End file.
